


do you have room for one more troubled soul?

by lexorcist



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 02, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Paralysis, The Upside Down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexorcist/pseuds/lexorcist
Summary: In which sleep paralysis demons might be real, they might be demogorgons, and they might be hunting Billy Hargrove in his nightmares. It's all kinds of bad news, folks. [Post-S2 / Alt-S3]. [Billy/Steve]. [One day, I will not hurt Billy in a fic. However, today is not that day.]
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. do you have room for one more troubled soul?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt from the sweet Allie (@wndasmaximoffs).  
> Originally posted here: https://biillyhargroves.tumblr.com/post/187457856970/im-so-tired-then-sleep-i-cant-thats-when.

Billy hasn’t said a word all day. 

This is not strange, exactly. He gets surly-quiet. He snarls and scowls, he gets gruff and moody, he bites out one-word answers and stinging sarcastic quips. But this is different. He isn’t angry. He doesn’t look mad. He isn’t being mean. This isn’t some sour mood that a long drive will fix. Steve knows this. He knows because he can see the deep, dark circles bruised beneath Billy’s eyes. He knows because Billy has spent every class period starting blankly at the board and didn’t. have a single word to say when Mrs. Click tried to call him out (”Mr. Hargrove, what are your thoughts?”, and Billy had just stared at her, unblinking and unfazed by every follow-up question - “What does Gilman say about powerlessness? Mr. Hargrove? How about the pattern on the wall? Does that mean anything to you, Mr. Hargrove?” - until she finally kicked him out of the classroom with a stern look and a pointed finger; Billy gathered up his things and slinked away, not seeming to hear the whispers that simmered in his wake). 

Steve can’t find him after school. He isn’t in the locker rooms or on the basketball court, and when Steve finally wanders into the parking lot he sees Max with her back against the Camaro, her skateboard at her feet and her arms crossed.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks.

“Billy’s not with you?” she asks. Steve glances around him as if searching for Billy, holding out his hands to show the utter absence of her brother in their midst. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“Whatever,” Max shrugs. “I was just gonna tell him I’m going to Mike’s anyway.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Friday. Campaign night.”

“Weird that you know that,” Max says. “Can you tell Billy? Tell him to pick me up at ten?”

“Nine,” Steve says, flinching internally at how incredibly mom-like it makes him sound. He holds up his hand to stop her from commenting on it. “I heard it. I’m sorry. I’ll tell him.”

“Thanks,” Max says. She kicks off on her board and begins to roll away.

“Wait,” Steve calls, and Max drops one foot to the ground. “Is he okay? Billy?”

At this, Max turns around, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He just seems…I don’t know, out of it. I know you two don’t exactly, like, talk, but,” Steve trails off, and his gaze falls to his feet. He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Forget it. Forget I asked. I’ll tell him to get you tonight, okay?”

But Max doesn’t leave, and it’s at least a minute before she speaks again. “He’s been going out at night. Going for, like, drives or something. I don’t really know. That’s all I got.”

“Every night?”

“Like I said,” Max tells him, “that’s all I know.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, okay. Thanks.”

“Sure,” Max shrugs. She skates away and this time Steves lets her. He stands there, alone in the parking lot, scanning the now thinning stream of students trickling from the building, trying to spot Billy in the mix. Almost everyone is gone by the time Billy emerges, looking almost drunk as he stumbles from the school pinching the bridge of his nose. Carol tries approach him and he barely notices her hand on his shoulder. Steve’s heart lodges in his throat and he walks toward them with long strides.

“Everything okay here?” Steve asks when he’s close enough.

“You tell me,” Carol says, scowling as she looks Billy up and down. It’s clear that he hasn’t even looked at her - his primary offense against her. Steve’s hands hover over Billy’s back, not quite touching him but ready to catch him should he fall. Carol has removed her hand, her fingers curled like she’s touched something disgusting. “Good luck with that,” she says, and she walks off in a huff. 

“Hey,” Steve says, speaking softly even though he’s sure Carol is out of earshot. “Billy?”

Billy doesn’t look at him, but his head does jerk slightly toward Steve, and Steve finally lets a hand fall on Billy’s back. 

“Come on,” Steve says. “I’m gonna take you to my place.” He starts to move, but Billy doesn’t budge. He’s like a stone. Steve tries to guide him, but he won’t move, rooted like a tree where he stands. “No one’s there, I promise. And Max went to Mike’s. It’s okay.” This time, Billy does look at him, and he blinks slowly as if seeing Steve for the first time. “Okay?” Steve asks. Billy nods his head, and he lets Steve lead him to the car. 

Now they are the Harrington house, and Billy is cross-legged on Steve’s bed, and he hasn’t said a word in hours. Steve has tried to coax something out of him. He’s told him about Max, and that she wanted him to get her at ten. He asked if he was okay after Click’s class, and if he understood The Yellow Wallpaper. He asked if Billy wanted him to turn on some music, and when Billy continued to stay silent, Steve turned on the radio and let it play. Eventually, Billy reaches to shut off the radio.

“Don’t like that song?” Steve asks, and Billy shakes his head and points to his temple. A headache, from the static, or perhaps from… “You sick, man?” Billy does not shake his head at this, but he gives no other form of answer either. “You’re gonna have to talk eventually.”

“Sorry,” Billy says, voice flat and gravelly. “I’m just tired.”

“Are you sleeping?” Steve asks. “Max said you’ve been going out at night.”

“You talked to my sister?”

“I just asked if you were okay,” Steve says. “I was worried.”

“I’m touched,” Billy says. He is leaning his back against the headboard, his head leaned back against the wall, and his eyes are closed, though Steve can tell by his breathing that Billy is very much awake. 

“So?” Steve asks. When Billy doesn’t answer, Steve says, “You should sleep. Crash here for a while. I can grab Max for you.:

“No,” Billy says.

“No?” 

“No,” Billy repeats. “I can’t.”

“I can raid the medicine cabinet,” Steve offers. “I think my mom has something that-”

“I can’t sleep,” Billy says, “because that’s when they come.”

It takes some time for Steve to process Billy’s words. He stares at him, blinking rapidly, wondering if he even heard him correctly. Billy makes no move to backtrack or to correct his words. He sits in the spot, in the same manor, awake but unspeaking, unmoving, eyes closed and face drawn in utter exhaustion. The more Steve looks at him the more he can see the effects- the lines around Billy’s mouth, the wrinkles in the shirt he’s worn for the past three days, he dullness of his skin. 

“They?” Steve finally asks. When Billy says nothing, he presses, “Who’s they?”

“Forget it,” Billy mumbles. But Steve sits across from him and he places a gentle hand on Billy’s knee. The touch makes Billy’s eyes slip open, and he blinks until he can focus on Steve’s face. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asks him.

“It’s nothing,” Billy says.

“It’s not nothing,” Steve insists. “You said you can’t sleep because that’s when they come. That’s some horror movie bullshit, Hargrove. And, honestly, you look like an extra in that dumb Romero zombie shit the kids watch. So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Billy repeats. “It…it’ll go away. It’s just…never been this bad.”

“What’s never been this bad?”

“It’s stupid.” Billy shrugs.

“It’s not,” Steve says. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Shut up,” Billy says.

“Come on,” Steve says. “You can tell me.”

“It’s these, like…” Billy sighs, and he stares up at the ceiling. “They’re not nightmares, really. They’re something else. My mom called it something. It’s happened ever since I was a kid.”

“Like…night terrors?”

“Sort of,” Billy says. “I see stuff. And I’m not fucking crazy, okay?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Steve says.

“It’s just,” Billy stammers. “It’s like…I’m stuck. Like, I’m awake, but I’m stuck in a dream, and I know it’s a dream, but I can’t make it stop. It feels real.”

“That’s where they come?” Steve says.

“Yeah.”

“What are they?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says. He sounds like a child, frustrated and on the verge of tears. He sighs heavily and looks back at Steve. “I’m not crazy.”

“I know,” Steve says. 

“It hasn’t happened in a long time,” Billy says. “But after, uh…after Max…”

“Hit you with a sedative to stop you from killing me?” Billy opens his mouth to defend himself, or to apologize, or some combination of the two, and Steve shakes his head and waves you off. “Come on. I got over that months ago. No hard feelings. You know that.”

“Right,” Billy says. “Well, uh, after that, I just…”

“It’s been that long?”

“On and off,” Billy shrugs. “I go for drives after. Uh, to clear my head.”

“That’s where you’ve been going?” Steve asks. “When Max hears you leave?” Billy’s silence is answer enough. Steve sighs and he squeezes Billy’s thigh. “What are they?” Steve asks. “Whatever it is you see.”

“I don’t know,” Billy shrugs. “They used to be, like…these men. Tall. Big. They kind of, um…kind of looked my dad, but I couldn’t really see their faces or anything. They’re different now, though. They look different.”

“Different how?”

“They’re something else,” Billy says. “They’re not human. They’re like these weird fucking alien things. They don’t have any faces, and some of them walk on all fours, and they-”

“They what?” Billy asks. “Do they do anything to you?”

“The old ones,” Billy starts, “used to just…hold me down. But these ones…they make the whole room cold. And their heads, like…” He trails off, and he shakes his head, and his tone suddenly turns angry. “Forget it, okay? It’s just these stupid fucking dreams.”

“No,” Steve says. “No, tell me.”

“Let it go, Steve.” Steve sighs, but he hear suppressed tears in Billy’s voice and he can see the bone-weary exhaustion pulling at every inch of him. Steve rubs Billy’s leg, and he moves to Billy’s side so that he can slide an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “What if we go for a drive?” he offers. It takes a bit of convincing to get Billy to agree, but Steve’s hope for the drive prevails: within a few miles, Billy is asleep with his head against the window. Steve keeps on hand on Billy’s shoulder and when Billy lets out a distressed whine, Steve squeezes him. 

“It’s okay,” Steve tells him. “You’re safe.”

And Billy seems to hear this; he even seems to believe it. He settles down, face relaxed in sleep once more, and he stays like that as Steve drives loops around the town and beyond, stays fast asleep as Steve begins to wind through neighbors, is still out cold when Steve pulls up outside of the Wheeler house.

It is nine o’clock on the dot, and when Karen Wheeler calls Max to the door, Max seems less than pleased to be summoned. The others trail up behind her to say their goodnights, all of them surprised to see Steve instead of Billy waiting to collect her. Max’s brow creases and she leans out the open doorway to see Steve’s car at the curb, Billy asleep inside.

“What the hell’s going on?” she asks.

Steve looks at each of the kids in turn before saying, “I think we have a problem.”


	2. i'm a canary, you're a coal mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: https://biillyhargroves.tumblr.com/post/187480880525/oooo-can-we-get-a-part-two-to-the-fic-thing-where.

“Walk me through this again.”

Joyce Byers is pacing the length of her living room- back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Her hands are on her hips and her eyes are downturned as she scuffs her sneakers against the floorboards. She bites her lip, thinking hard. 

Steve arriving at the Wheelers with Billy in tow had caused something of a commotion. The kids all scrambled outside, Max rushing to Steve’s car and demanding to know what the hell was going on. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked. “What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Steve said, exasperated, and he launched into everything that Billy had told him. He told them that Billy hadn’t been sleeping, that he’d been having nightmares, that he was seeing demogorgons in his sleep. 

“But,” Max said, “he’s never seen one before.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“You drove us home, dumbass! He was _out_. He didn’t see anything.”

“So how does he know what they look like?” Steve demanded. “How is he seeing them now? If he hasn’t seen them for real, how is he dreaming about them, huh? Answer that.”

“You think he’s tapped in?” Dustin asked. “That he’s seeing-”

“-something real, yeah,” Steve finished. “I mean, how else does this make sense?”

“You’re sure he was talking about a demogorgon?” Mike asked.

“He described the fucking demodogs,” Steve said. “And he’s scared shitless.”

“Billy?” Max said, brows raised. “Scared?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I had to force it out of him, okay? He doesn’t even want to talk about it. And he thinks it’s just, like, nightmares, right? It’s just nightmares to him and he’s terrified.”

Nancy and Jonathan and come home then, the latter dropping the former off after a date, and they wore concerned looks as they approached the group and Steve caught them up, too. Nancy face fell more and more as Steve when on, and she frowned as she ducked toward the passenger window of Steve’s car to get a better look at Billy, still asleep inside. 

“We have to do something,” she said, determination edging each word. “Don’t we?”

“If this is real?” Jonathan said. “Yeah.”

“Can you do anything?” Max asked, her attention now on El, who had been silently watching Billy while the others talked. She looks at Max with wide eyes, and then looks to Steve, who watches her expectantly. She fiddles with her sleeves.

“I can try,” she said. “But not here.”

And so the decision had been made. It was too late for Dustin and Lucas rode home to collect their walkies, and Mike retreated inside promising to man his- they agreed it wouldn’t be fair to crowd Billy, but that communication should stay open for backup calls. Max slid into the back of Steve’s car, and they followed Jonathan, Nancy, Will, and El to the Byers’ house. Once during the drive, Billy had stirred, and Steve fought to keep him calm as he trailed after Jonathan’s taillights. 

“You okay?” Steve asked once Billy was asleep again and when he caught Max’s worried eyes in the rearview mirror. He thinks he saw tears welling in them, but she blinked too quickly for him to be sure. 

“I just…” She trailed off, and then sighed. “It’s nothing.”

And now they are at the Byers, Billy settled on the couch after some very careful maneuvering by Steve (with some help from less-than-thrilled Chief Hopper, whose date night meal with the woman of the house sits abandoned on the dining room table - there had been some slight protests from a groggy Billy, who had settled again with some quiet reassurances from Steve and Max alike). 

Steve sits one arm of the couch and Max on the other, twin pillars guarding Billy as he sleeps. Hopper leans against the wall, watching Joyce as she paces the length of the living room for the umpteenth time. Jonathan, Nancy, are all crowded in the doorway, and El hovers nearby, her eyes on Billy. 

“He’s seeing demogorgons,” Steve says, “in his sleep.”

“And you’re absolutely sure he’s never seen one before?” Hopper asks.

“We’re sure,” Max says. “Never.”

“What does that mean?” Nancy asks. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her jaw is set. She is nervous, but she is fighting to hide it. She leans against Jonathan, who leans into her as well, and she fiddles with her necklace as she talks. “It has to mean something.”

Joyce is about to say something when a noise from the couch draws everyone’s attention. Across the room, El stiffens as Billy groans and rolls onto his side, his arms curling protectively over his middle, his hair falling over his face. Steve, too, tenses, and he drops to a knee beside the couch. 

“Wait,” El says. Steve stills, and he looks to El as she approaches the couch with careful steps. “Don’t wake him up. Not yet.”

“You sure you want to try this, kid?” Hopper asks. He, too, is now on alert. 

“I want to try,” El tells him. Steve moves out of the way. Max lingers on the couch, hovering near Billy’s head, as El lowers herself beside him. “I need-” El starts, and Will is already in motion, digging through El’s backpack until he finds the blindfold she keeps _just in case_. He pulls her portable radio out also, a Christmas gift from Hopper, He hands it to her and she thanks him before securing it around her head. He turns on the radio, always set to static, and sets it on the coffee table. 

The room goes quiet. 

El takes Billy’s hand. Billy whines, perhaps even whimpers, and attempts to pull away, but El keeps a tight grip. She exhales slowly. Billy’s eyelids flutter. El’s brow creases. Billy writhes, attempting to roll over but held by El’s tiny hand. El’s breathing quickens. 

“What is it?” Max says, voice pitched. 

“Can you see something?” Steve asks.

“Back off her,” Hopper says at the same El says, “I see them.”

Her voice is small and strained. She sounds like she’s trying to keep her cool, and judging by the way Billy is squirming, his breath growing ragged, Steve things she’s mimicking his energy. Steve’s own heartbeat quickens and he hovers over El, desperate to help but unsure of what to do. Before he can decide, Billy wakes violently. He startles first, then he throws himself upright, throwing El away as he does. She gasps and tumbles backwards, caught quickly by Max and Nancy and Jonathan and Will come from her other side, attempting to put distance between El and Billy. Hopper and Joyce drop to their knees, each of them fussing over El as she tugs off her blindfold and stares, wide-eyed, at Billy. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says, the only one to move toward Billy. Max watches him, watches both of them, but Billy seems unaware of her and of Steve as he attempts to right himself. His hair is hanging over his eyes, and his eyes are trained on Eleven. “Billy,” Steve says. “Hey, come on, you with us?”

“Billy?” Max tries, and this time Billy looks at her. He stares at her for a moment before turning to Steve, brow creased in something like frustration and something like betrayal and something like fear. 

“You…” he starts, but no words come after. 

“Hey,” Jonathan says. Billy’s head snaps toward him, and as she slowly realizes how many people are in the room he sinks into the couch cushions and leans toward Steve. “You can take him into my bedroom. Give him some space.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Billy asks. Steve looks at everyone- at Will and at Jonathan, Nancy and El, Hopper and Joyce and finally Max.

“We have to tell him,” Max says.

“Tell me what?” Billy demands. When he is answered with a lengthly silence he repeats his question louder and with more force. “God damn it, tell me what?”

“They’re real,” El says. Billy’s eyes land on her for a second time and this time there is recognition there. Steve can feel anger rising with him, but when he speaks in is mixed with confusion and perhaps a bit of desperation. 

“You were-” he starts, and El nods. She was there. She saw it, too. 

She tells him, “They’re real.”


	3. too tired to be fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: https://biillyhargroves.tumblr.com/post/187792070190/shit-is-it-too-needy-to-request-a-part-three-to.

Silence reigns once more; this time, though, it is tense and it is angry and it is paired with pacing so furious Steve thinks the carpet might burn. They are in Jonathan’s bedroom, where Joyce had ushered them on Jonathan’s offer after Billy began his pacing in the living room.

“The monsters,” El had told him, “in your dreams. They’re real.”

“You-” Billy said, and then, “You were-”, and then, “You saw-”, and then, feeling the heat of so many eyes on him, so many people watching him, so many observe his stumbling and stammering, he shot to his feet with his shoulders rolled back and his hands squeezed to fists at his sides.

“Billy,” Max said, jumping up too, and at the same time Steve said, “Take it easy.”

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Billy shouted. His tone startled El; she jumped, and she curled against Hopper, who tugged her closer as he said, “Hey!” in a loud voice. He seemed ready to say more, ready to launch into some kind of tirade, but Joyce’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. She bunched a wad of his shirt in her fist and shook him- not hard, but enough to shut him up.

“Enough,” she said. She squeezed El with her free arm, then released them both to stand. Billy’s shoulders rose as she approached. He moved like prey; jerky, untrusting, unsure. He backed away when Joyce stepped closer and flinched when she reached to him. She saw this, and she stopped. “Hey,” she said softly. She glanced around the room, releasing Billy, for a moment, from one scrutinizing pair of eyes. She looked to Jonathan. “I think some space would be good,” she told him, and Jonathan nodded. He rose, too, and again Billy shrunk back. He was like a cornered animal, alert and defensive, but relaxed when instead of moving toward him, Jonathan directed his attention to Steve. 

“First door on the right,” he told him, pointing down the hall. Steve placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder and tried not to react when Billy nearly jumped away. Joyce stepped to the side, making a path for them out of the living room. Billy looked at everyone in turn. He wanted to fight- Steve could feel that -but he was too exhausted to argue, too exhausted to push. 

Now, he is pacing the length of Jonathan’s small bedroom over and over again. He hasn’t said a word since Steve shut the door. Steve sits on the edge of the bed, watching Billy move back and forth and back and forth. He is simmering with something like rage. Twice he stopped to looked at Steve, twice he opened his mouth to- ask a question? say _anything_? -, and twice he shook his head with a low huff and resumed his pacing. 

“Can you at least sit?” Steve asks. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Billy grunts; it is the clearest response Steve has gotten from him in what feels like hours but, in reality, has only been about twenty minutes. Steve can hear a low murmur of voices outside the door, muffled with distance, and he knows that Billy hears it, too.

“I know that is…” Steve stops himself, suddenly aware that he doesn’t a word. This is _what_? Confusing, sure. Frustrating, obviously. Scary? Terrifying, even? Something out of a Stephen King novel? He sighs. “I know this is a lot.” 

Billy pauses. He looks at Steve, and he looks angry, but the anger doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes tell a different story. They look like a child’s eyes. Steve opens his mouth to say more, but Billy turns his back again. 

“Do you want to be alone?” Steve asks him. Billy pauses again, this time with his back to Steve, and Steve prepares to be kicked out. He is halfway to his feet when Billy speaks.

“No,” he says. Steve hesitates, not quite sure he’s heard him right.

“No?” he asks. Billy turns to look at him. 

“No,” he says again, and he sits down beside Steve with a heavy sigh. He leans his elbows on his knees and rests his head in hands and, after another moment of hesitation, Steve touches a hand to Billy’s back. 

“Do you want to talk?” Steve asks.

“I want to sleep,” Billy murmurs. He sounds miserable. 

“You think you can?” Steve asks. 

“No,” Billy says.

“Because of-”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Steve rubs circles between Billy’s shoulders, but the tension there stays coiled.

“What did she mean?” Billy asks.

“El?”

“She said they’re real.”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“How does she-”

“She can see stuff,” Steve says. “Uh, she has, like…uh…superpowers, sort of.”

“But how does she know they’re real?”

“She kind of, um- opened the gate for them to get here?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Billy-”

“Don’t,” Billy says. He lifts his head to glare at Steve, but the effect is lost when Steve sees a sheen of unfallen tears. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Harrington, I swear to God.”

“I’m not,” Steve says. “I swear. I’m not even sure I know what patronize means.”

“Fuck off,” Billy huffs, though his tone his lighter. He leans against Steve and Steve slips his around around Billy’s shoulders, holding Billy against him.   
  
“I don’t know how she knows,” he admits. “We’ve fought them before. She’s fought them before. But we still don’t really know how they, like…work. This is new territory for all of us. No just you.”

“Great,” Billy says. 

“Bright side,” Steve says, “is that you’re not in it alone.”

“No one else is seeing them in their dreams?”

“Well, uh,” Steve stammers, then sighs. “No. Not that I know of.”

“So how am I not alone?” Billy asks. “I’m just supposed to let my sister’s weird friend stand guard in my fucking head?”

“El can help,” Steve says. “We all just want to help.”

Billy is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Steve says. “You should sleep.”

“If they’re real-”

“-you’ve got backup,” Steve finishes. “Seriously. Okay? You’re covered, man.”

Billy is quiet again, and leans heavier against Steve. Steve lets him. He holds Billy close, rubs Billy’s arm, tucks Billy’s head beneath his chin. They sit there together, entwined, and Steve hums something out-of-tune to drown out the sounds of talking outside. 

“What if they know?” Billy asks suddenly, almost startling Steve.

“What if who knows what?”

“Those things,” Billy says. “What if they know we’ve caught on?”

“You think they have?”

“They looked at her,” Billy says. “At…El.”

“Then we’ll send her back in,” Steve says. “She’ll kick their asses.”

“So, what? I have a fourteen year-old bodyguard?”

“Would you rather go in alone?”

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“What?” Steve asks. He pulls away, one hand holding Billy so that he can look at his face. Billy blinks at him, groggy and weary. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Okay?”

Billy looks Steve up and down. He bites his lip, looks away, looks at the floor, then back at Steve. He nods, and when Steve pulls him into an embrace, Billy lets his head fall back on Steve’s shoulder. 

“You’re really fucking out of it, Hargrove,” Steve says, “if you think I’d leave you.”

“Shut up,” Billy grumbles. 

And Steve tells him, “Go to sleep.”

An hour passes, and in it Billy does sleep. He falls asleep on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve winces as he lowers Billy onto the bed. He keeps his promise; he stays with him, keeps watch over him, until a knock at the door pulls him away. Billy grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up, and Steve gently brushes Billy’s hair from his face, his thumb lingering at Billy’s temple for a moment, before going to answer the door. 

“What’s going on?” Max asks, and Steve holds a finger to his lips to quiet her. 

“He’s sleeping,” he whispers. 

“Is he-” El starts.

“He’s been okay so far,” Steve says. He leaves the door open a crack behind him as he steps into the hall, and he looks into the dimly lit room to be sure Billy is still asleep before turning his attention to the girls. 

“He’s scared,” El says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah, he is.”

“You’re scared,” Max says, brows furrowed as she looks him up and down.

“Yeah, well, _he’s_ scared,” Steve says by way of explanation. 

“We think El should stay with him,” Max says. “I mean, if he’s sleeping, they can come back, right? She should be there if they do.” Steve looks to El, who nods. 

“I promised I wouldn’t leave him,” Steve says.

“You don’t have to,” Max says. “Just…let us stay, too. To protect him.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, okay. Yeah.”

He leans against the door so that it opens, and he tries to slow it down so that the hinges don’t squeak too much. Every little noise makes him nervous. He doesn’t want to wake Billy- not after everything, not when he’s so desperately exhausted. Max steps inside, and she makes her way to her brother’s side, careful as she lowers herself beside him on the bed. Before El follows her, she takes Steve’s hand.

“He will be okay,” she says, and she squeezes his hand and offers the smallest of smiles.

“I hope so,” Steve tells her, eyes on Billy, so far still sleeping soundly, so far still undisturbed. “I really hope so.”


End file.
